Together Again
by EsmeAmelia
Summary: Luke and Han are reunited in the afterlife.


AN: I don't own Star Wars. This was written for a fic exchange with my friend MasterOf4Elements. She requested a fic about Han and Luke meeting in the afterlife, and I love that idea.

"Together Again"

By EsmeAmelia

Death had been easy.

So easy that Luke almost didn't notice when it happened. He had slipped from one reality into another with the ease of a river flowing into the ocean. Without the confines of a body, he floated over Ahch-To, watching the ocean lap against the beach, the porgs hopping around their nests, the sun glistening on the flowers. Why, in all his years of exile, had he never noticed how beautiful the island was? Was it because of his limited vision when alive or simply his broken heart that never mended?

"Hey, kid."

Suddenly Luke's spirit froze. That voice. _That_ voice. The voice Luke hadn't heard in years but could never ever forget. The voice that once made him laugh, comforted him, let him know he wasn't alone.

Luke wanted to hold his breath, but then he realized he no longer breathed. Could it possibly be . . .? He'd always thought that non-Force-sensitives couldn't retain consciousness after death, but was it possible . . .?

He slowly turned around.

"Han!"

There he was, shimmering, surrounded by blue light, looking like a worn-out old man, but giving that same crooked grin Luke had always known. "Luke," he said in a knowing voice.

With that, Luke threw his arms around his old friend, momentarily surprised when he felt that Han had _substance_ , but then he realized that they were both ghosts now. Maybe ghosts could feel substance in other ghosts.

"Together again, huh?" Han murmured as he wrapped Luke up in a tight hug, the type of hug that once made Luke feel protected from whatever darkness there was in the outside world.

"Wouldn't miss it," Luke murmured back, wanting to cry but realizing he had no tear ducts as a ghost, resting his head on Han's shoulder as if the years apart had never happened.

They remained in the embrace for an unknown amount of time. Luke knew there was so much to talk about, but he just wanted to stay in the embrace a little longer, a little longer, a little longer. Here he could pretend everything was normal – he could even pretend they weren't both dead.

But even though they were both dead, this moment couldn't last forever.

"Han, I'm sorry," Luke whispered, reluctantly pulling himself out of the hug. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry . . . I'm so, so sorry."

Han raised an eyebrow at his old friend. "For what, this? It wasn't your fault."

Luke cringed at the words. _It wasn't your fault._ Even in death Han didn't know. "No, you don't understand." He felt like hyperventilating even though he no longer had breath as an unwelcome memory swirled into his mind. Their last afternoon together, when Han had shouted at him for failing to protect Ben from the dark side . . .

"Luke, listen to me," said Han, staring into the younger man's eyes. "I shouldn't have blamed you . . ."

"No," Luke interrupted. "It _was_ my fault. I . . ." His voice fell to a whisper. ". . . I killed you."

"Don't talk like that," said Han.

"Han, _listen!"_ said Luke, grabbing his friend's shoulders and noticing that his regular hand had been restored. Han seemed to notice that too, since he glanced at Luke's right hand and gave a tiny grin. How Luke wished they could just talk about his hand, but no, it was time for Han to learn the truth.

"What is it, kid?"

Luke couldn't take a deep breath to prepare himself – he couldn't make any kind of bodily preparation, which only made this more difficult. Wasn't existence after death supposed to be peaceful? "Han . . . I'm the reason . . . I'm the reason Ben turned to the dark side."

With that, he told Han what happened on that fateful night, forcing out every word, eyes lowered. He couldn't look at his friend while revealing this, couldn't face the shame that would come.

Afterwards, there was silence. Luke kept his head down, wondering if Han had vanished in disgust but unwilling to look up and see if it had actually happened. He certainly wouldn't blame Han for vanishing and never wanting to see him again, even when that meant the rest of eternity.

 _Had_ Han vanished? Luke heard no breath, but that didn't mean anything since neither of them breathed anymore. He didn't want to look and find his best friend gone maybe forever, but he had to. Finally he slowly, slowly raised his head.

Han was still there, but his eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open as if he were frozen in that position. "Han," Luke said, his voice coming out in a small, hesitant whisper, "I . . ." He couldn't think of anything to say after that.

"You tried to kill him . . ." Han muttered.

How Luke wished he could cry. Maybe tears would ease the burden he would have to carry forever. "Han . . . I wish . . . I wish I could undo it."

Han's mouth twisted as if he didn't know what to do either. "I know you can't undo it but . . . you _tried to kill my son!"_

Luke felt his ghostly form tense up. "Go ahead, yell at me. I deserve every bit of it."

Han's specter hands were shaking – actually _shaking_ , as if he still had a body. For a moment his face was tensed up in a glare and his hands balled up into fists, looking almost like he was about to attack Luke, but then his face and hands relaxed as he glanced downward. "Your dad can't undo anything he did either," he mumbled.

"Wait, what? You've talked to my father?"

"Yeah," said Han, looking back up at his friend. "You should've heard the buttload of apologies for Bespin he gave me. I'm like, 'hey, it was over thirty years ago,' but he's like, 'I still did something terrible and I have to apologize.' The stuff he did still bothers him even when he's been dead for thirty years, so I guess this stuff never really leaves you." He glanced down at the peacefulness of Ahch-To beneath them. "Me, I've only been dead a week or so, but I still can't stop thinkin' about . . ."

Luke knew what Han was thinking about – he would know with or without the Force. "Have you tried talking to him?"

Han bit his lip. "A few times . . ."

"And?"

Han glanced downward again. "Well let's put it this way. If I weren't already dead he'd probably kill me again."

Luke's stomach would have twisted if he had a body. He wondered how long it would take to get used to not having a body. "Han, I wish I knew what to say."

Han suddenly seemed interested in watching a porg darting around beneath them. "What's there to say? You tried to kill my kid and my kid later killed me. You ain't gonna change that by sayin' anything."

The porg was hopping in a rhythmic nature, chirping to itself as if singing a song. "Look at him," Han said, sounding almost as if he were talking to himself. "So long as he's got enough to eat and nothing's eating _him_ , he's happy. Why couldn't our lives have been that simple?"

"So you wish we were animals?"

Han ignored the question and just kept looking at the porg. "After the war ended, I thought we'd live happily ever after as this big happy family. Then when Leia and me got married, had a baby, I thought I was the happiest guy in the galaxy. Why couldn't things have just _stayed_ that way?"

Luke didn't know how to answer that. "I guess . . . I guess we'll never know, even in death."

They stood there for several minutes, not speaking, just watching the porg hop around and enjoy its simple existence. Han probably didn't _actually_ wish they were animals in life, but Luke had to admit, watching the porg nibble at its feathers without any knowledge of politics or wars made the idea seem tempting.

"I guess you'd like to talk to your dad," said Han. "You can meet your mom too."

The mention of his mother finally got Luke to look up. "You met my _mother_ too?"

"Yeah," said Han. "Nice lady, that Padme. Says she's real proud of you and Leia and she even told me to keep tryin' with Ben."

" _Proud_ of me?" Luke exclaimed. "Why would she _ever_ be _proud_ of me?"

"Well, you _did_ save the galaxy once upon a time."

"And then I managed to ruin it again."

Han shrugged. "Maybe that's how the Force works. Cycles of light and darkness or some Jedi mumbo-jumbo like that." He finally looked Luke in the eye. "C'mon, I'll take you to see your parents. You can meet my parents too." He offered his hand. "Maybe they could even help us figure out what to do about Ben."

After glancing at the porg once more time, Luke took his friend's hand with his right hand that had been restored. Maybe, like his hand, the light in the galaxy could be restored too. "All right."

There was that grin – the familiar Han Solo grin. "That's the spirit. C'mon, you're gonna love the cantina."

"Wait, _cantina?"_

"What, you think dead people don't know how to have fun?"

Luke finally laughed.

THE END


End file.
